Doctor Who: Unity - Book 1 -- The Last
by DoctorWhoUnity
Summary: A missing person enquiry on Earth takes a sinister turn when friends and family are starting to forget she ever existed? DS Adam Pritchard is the only person that seems to remember, as well as the new addition to his Department, a mysterious woman who claims she can help, but first they need to find a Doctor.
1. Chapter 1

DOCTOR WHO: UNITY

Book I: The Last

Chapter 1

 _The Office of the Lord President_

 _The Capitol_

 _Gallifrey_

The President was restless. Very restless.

As he sat at the table with the the other members of the Inner Council, his knees were taking it in turns to jig up and down, up and down. Right now, it was the lefts turn, and right was very eager for its crack.

The problem was, mused the President, he wasn't all that good at sitting still for very long. So meetings, like this one, were very much not his cup of tea.

Thinking of tea, he reached forward for the china cup in front of him. With the cup halfway to his mouth, he rememberd he'd drank his cup dry.

He looked around at his collegues, all of them listening intently to Vice-President Ushas' report of the situation in the Traken system. Now there was a bad state of affairs that needed dealing with. But, first…

"Who's got the teapot?" Interrupted the President.

Ushas turned to face him, her red hair whipping round fast enough to cause a neck injury. "Sorry, Lord President?"

"The teapot." Said the President. "Who had it last. I'm all tea'd out."

Ushas motioned her head towards another figure at the table. A dark haired, thin faced man, with a rather severe goatee.

"Lord Koschei had it last? She replied. A hint of the schoolyard in her voice.

Lord Koshei, head of the Temporial Stability Authority, looked a bit sheepish.

"I have an _empty_ teapot." He stood up. "But I can get some more..."

The President raised his hand. "No. Don't. Ignore me. I'm just feeling a bit twitchy." He turned his attention to Ushas. "Please continue."

Ushas took a deep breath, and leant forward to review her notes, muttering somehting about loosing her place under her breath.

Then with a loud "Ah.. there." She continued her report on the Traken Civil War.

The President closed his eyes as he took in the report. How had this allowed to happen? They were Time Lords, for Omegas sake, they should be able to do something?

How could a meeting run out of tea? It beggared belief.

He gave his full attention to the report. This neeeded dealing with soon. Now, even. He vowed if Ushas wanted to go and 'help', he would let her.

Just as his right leg was beginning it's turn to twitch, a hand rested gently upon it. The President opened an eye and saw his wife, Alicia, smiling at him.

"Sit still!" She said quietly. "You'll have the table over!"

The President returned her smile, and much to his right legs annoyance, he stopped it bouncing up and down.

The meeting carried on. As predicted, a request to assist in the Traken situation was made. And as he intended, the President gave it his full support.

"I want you to go there yourself." Added the President, talking to Ushas. "Meet with the rebel leaders.. find out whats going on. Then come back."

Ushas looked at the Presiddent. Her face showing an unnatural look of concern. "You do know I have an Academy student working with me? And that they'll have to.."

The President interrupted. "I trust you to ensure their safety at all times."

Ushas nodded, not missing the undercurrent of threat in the Presidents comment. "I assure you, Lord President, that their safety will be my first priority."

"Good!" Snapped Alicia. "Make sure it is."

The President looked between his wife and VP. "Okay, ladies. Let's keep it civil."

His wife looked abashed. "But, with respect, I haven't said _anything!_ "

The President laughed. "Not yet. Anyway." He said, looking towards Ushas. "I think that's everything, isn't it?"

"Yes, Lord President." Replied Ushas. "I think we've covered everything."

The President stood, his mood returning the lighter, almost flippant mood he was known for. "Goodo. I call this meeting to an end, and ask you all to go away make someone elses lifes miserable."

A chorus of "Yes, Lord Pressident" was mixed with the scraping of chairs, and low level banter as the rest of the Inner Council went about their duties. Only Alicia, and Ushas were left.

"Right then." The President said, rubbing his hands togetther with barely supressed glee. "Shall we get this party started?"

"You're enjoying this too much." Observed Alicia.

"And?" Asked the President, as he removed the glasses this incarnation needed to wear after his last incarnation was attacked by a temporal weapon, and proceeded to clean them on his robes of office.

"And… You need to take this more seriously!" His wife said.

All the good cheer drained from the Presidents face. "There has never been a moment since this all began where I didn't take it seriously." He said, his voice quiet.

Realising her mistake, Alicia placed her hand on his arm. "I know, and I'm sorry." She placed a kiss on his right cheek. "I wasn't thinking."

Having finished cleaning his glasses, the President placed them back on his face, a smile once again spreading. "I know." He turned away, walking towards the back of the meeting room. "I'm keen to get it over with."

He reached the door to his inner office and turned. "You know what you have to do?"

Ushas nodded as she spoke for both of them. "Yes. Wait for the signal, even though we have no idea what this signal is?"

Alicia laughed "He's going to say 'You will know when you see it', aren't you?|"

The President opened the door. "No need. He said as he stepped through. "You just said it for me."

With that, the President closed the door.

The President began to pull off his robes as he walked across his office to his desk. Underneath, he was wearing a suit of Earth design. Matching jacket and trousers of a rough, brown material worn with a white shirt, and dark tie.

The kind of suit seen on the streets of Britian in 1944. A suit that says 'I may not have a lot of money, but I can still look smart.'

He'd thought about adding a few tears and 'repairs' to it, to make it look more authentic, but he'd decided against it. If it came to it, he had enough false papers to get more clothes if he needed it. And he knew he would.

He opened the top drawer of his desk, taking from it a battered leather wallet, a ration book, an ID Card in the name of 'John Smith', and a few other items that would make his life easier.

Lastly, he took out his trusted Screwdriver.

Not the ornate red and gold one his daughter, Sarina, had given him the day he became President. But the sleeek back and silver one he'd carried during the Nekkistani War, the very war where he was blinded by one of their accursed Time Viruses.

He touched a button on it's surface. It emmitted a familiar hum, as well as a bright, purple light at the silver end of the device.

He closed the drawer, and then examined himself in the long, dress mirror he'd brought from his TARDIS.

His hair was a wispy brown, with the slightest hint of blonde here and there. His face was one that was made to smile, and to make others smile too. His bulid was solid and stocky; a powerful build that was capable of such gentleness too.

He smiled at his reflection, straightened his tie, and called out to his office.

"Transmat to Presidential TARDIS Cradle. Colonel Tydus, I expect to see you there."

A womans voice replied. "Of course, Lord President. The Colonel will meet you there. Transmat in progress."

With that. The President had very much left the building.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 _Presidential TARDIS Cradle_

 _The Capitol_

 _Gallifrey_

The President shimmered into the Cradle, and promptly began to sneeze.

A short, bald man stood watching this usual post-transmat occurrence with the President, and couldn't hide his smile.

"Why don't you just _walk_ down?" He laughed.

"Because, my dear Tydus." said the President, taking the handkerchief offered by his friend. "It's the only way I can get you to laugh without resorting to toilet humour."

Colonel Tydusmorbiousglestius of the Presidential Guard tried to keep a straight face, and failed. "You know me too well." He laughed.

The President gave him a brief hug. "That's why you're on my team, me old mate."

As he released Tydus, his mood shifted to a more serious one.

"So, this is it then?" Tydus asked.

"I'm afraid so. Three lives worth of hard work about to come to fruition."

The President began to walk around the white room that was the Presidential Cradle. The walls were decorated with a selection of tools and appliances, each one vital to the care and maintenance of a TARDIS. And even a few ones that could be considered 'unconventional' by Time Lord standards. Not many other Time Lords had a full set of JCB power tools, a Car Care Kit from a Sliver Serif, and a rusty looking saw with sign saying 'DO NOT TOUCH! THIS MEANS YOU, USHAS!" taped to it.

Tydus was looking at this, as he always did. "She'll find out that it's nothing special."

The President laughed. "But until then we can enjoy that pantomime of her trying to figure out why she can't touch it."

The President finished his small wanderings and returned to the centre of the Cradle, and gave his full attention to what was resting within it.

"Hello, Old Girl." He smiled.

In the cradle stood what can be best described as a blue box. To many races of the cosmos it was a very familiar blue box. One that played its part in the histories of countless civilisations. The President smiled as he mused on the possibility that 'Police Box' were possibly the two most well known words in the English language.

This was, of course, _his_ TARDIS. The one that he left Gallifrey so long ago. That young, impish man who decided that enough was enough, and it was time to go. He didn't dwell much on his first incarnation, even the slightest hint of it made him sad. Even now, in his fifth incarnation, he couldn't bring himself to dwell too long on that life, on her…

 _Goodbye Susan. Goodbye my dear._

But it would all be put right soon. He could bring her home.

He pulled himself back to the present as he placed a loving hand on the wooden door to his constant travelling companion.

Tydus gave a polite cough, the President turned around abruptly, all smiles and sparkling eyes. His favourite mask to show to the universe.

"Right then. Let's have a look!" He clapped his hands in a show of genuine excitement. No harm in having a little fun surely?

Tydus nodded, and took a comms device from his belt.

"This is Tydus. Send it in."

The Cradle was filled with the light hum of a transmat beam as a large object was brought into existence next to the Presidents TARDIS.

The President turned and moved towards it, smiling.

"Blimey! They've done a good job on it, haven't they?

Tydus walked to stand beside his friend, and smiled broadly.

"I know! Maxil dropped in to see me yesterday, and he was, shall we say, very pleased with himself."

"He's got every right to be! Make sure we send him something nice."

The President had always been fond of Maxil. Sure, he could be a bit too earnest in his work, and his smiles were so infrequent that they were a cause for celebration. But, under that head of blonde curls, was one hell of a brain.

The two stood looking at the new addition to the Cradle, looks of almost childish glee on their faces.

"It's ready then?" Asked the President.

"Yes, Lord President. Once the signal is received, it will lock on to it and be on it's way."

"I just hope there will be someone to send the signal."

Tydus pulled a scroll from his belt. "There will be. We think we've found them."

Really? Show me."

The President took the proffered scroll, and proceeded to unravel it.

The scroll contained two names. Human names.

"These are the most likely candidates?" Enquired the President.

"Yes. Although it would appear that this one. " Tydus tapped the first name on the list. "Would appear to be the mostly likely. Their exposure to Artron energy at such a young age seems to have cemented the Unity gene firmly into their DNA."

"But the other one is still viable?"

"We think so. We should send someone to keep an eye on them."

The President nodded. "Agreed. Send Alicia. She's been researching this new timeline, so she'll be better equipped to handle any problems."

"And you?" Tydus asked.

"Me? Oh I'll meet her there. But I've got something I want to see first. Tell her I'm going the long way round."

"Is that wise?"

"Of course not! But can you honestly expect me to pass up an opportunity like this?"

Tydus shook his head. "No. I suppose not. But... it's rather dangerous. Being that close to the edge of a Distortion Wave.

"Which, dear Tydus, is why I've never allowed any research time to go and study it."

Tydus thought for a second. "You know you can't get involved? I mean it, Thet, you _really_ can't."

The President, taken aback by the use his old nickname, looked grim.

"I know. And it's going to be hard. But Ty… I've got to see this. Don't you understand? I've _got to!"_

"I do, yes! Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"What did I tell you about cliches?" Laughed the President.

Tydus did something very odd then. He stuck his tongue out at his Lord President.

The President pulled his TARDIS key from his jacket pocket. "Time I was off. I've got a disaster to watch."

Tydus gave his friend another brief hug.

"For Omegas sake, Thet, be careful!"

The President looked crestfallen.

"Do I have to?"

The President stood on a grassy outcrop overlooking the English Channel. What he saw was both terrible, and exciting.

A storm unlike anything he'd seen before was raging below him.

The sea was being whipped into angry torrents of ice cold water. The vast armada of boats were being tossed about like so many childrens toys.

The cries of the sailors and passengers were drowned out by the raging storm, but the President could imagine them. Cries of fear and anguish as they watched friends being drowned by a storm that seemingly just came out of nowhere.

The clouds above them were the darkness of nothing. A true black that only the strongest of light could penetrate.

The President couldn't watch anymore. He turned away and walked back to his TARDIS. He'd go and find a nice place to wait for his friends.

Manchester. That would do, for now.

As his TARDIS departed, the storm raged on. Ripping both man and boat apart.

It was a day that would never be forgotten.

6th June, 1944. The day Operation Overlord failed.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 _Alliance Vortex Monitoring Outpost 37_

 _3.4 Light Years from Sol_

Throughout the Alliance, a string of outposts existed for one purpose only, to monitor the Vortex, and look for any kind of anomalies lurking within the turbulent tunnel of time.

Outpost 37 was special, it was concerned with only one planet. And that planet was Earth.

For reasons not entirely understood by the Alliance Science Ministry, Earth was a hotbed of temporal activity. It's Artron Count was one of the highest in the Galaxy.

Right now Outpost 37 was quiet. That was going to change very soon.

It was late in the 'day' and most of its crew were either resting, socializing with friends or a few alternative activities.

All expect for Lieutenant Defid.

It was Defids turn to do the overnight shift in the Control Centre. It wasn't mandatory for there to be such a shift, but Professor Telsen was keen for there to be someone to keep an eyestalk on what was going on. Defid was happy to oblige. After all, it would give him time to do some reading.

Defid was an avid history buff, and it was an interest he shared with the Professor. The Professor had left a pile of books on Defids desk, much to his excitement. Not datacards, but actual _books!_ Defid was acutely aware that they were precious to the Professor, and therefore should be treated with the reverence and love they most certainly deserved.

The book Defid was currently reading was a collection of Kaled stories for children, written decades before the War, which was why books like this were so valued. There were so few of them left.

He turned the page gently, making sure not to so much as leave the slightest smear from his small, thin tentacle. The current tale, _The Thal Who Came Home,_ was a personal favourite. The Professor had once said that this was probably the last Kaled story written where a Thal was shown in a positive light. But, even at the point when this story _was_ written, the rot had already began to set in.

Defid yawned. His small, round mouth opening wide and emitting a quiet, content yawn. The gums were toothless. Oh, small dentures were available, but there wasn't really much point. It's not like they could ingest solid food.

Not that Defid was ungrateful, far from it. Their Nursery Group had had the mutation that plagued their kind reversed to such an extent that they were able to take food in liquid form, they even needed to sleep. But, best of all, it allowed them to survive outside of their protective shell.

Defid gave silent thanks to Alpha and Beta that they, no that _he,_ could live the life he did.

Gender was something that had only been reintroduced a few dozen Groups before his. There wasn't a law to say you had to stick to that gender, that wasn't the Dalek way, but he liked to. He thought it was what helped make him, well, _him._

Dalek society was built around the importance of the individual, a far cry from the Dark Days. Now there was a part of history that Defid stayed away from. He'd had his fill of the Time of Davros whilst he was at the Science Academy. It depressed him deeply thinking about his ancestors, and their abhorrent lust for power and conquest. The Dalek Alliance, from it's inception, believed that history had an important part to play in their fledgling society. To show those who came after the truth about their past. Every dark, evil part of it.

Defid yawned again, he was getting tired. Not a promising start to the night shift. He was sure he'd get his second wind in the small hours of the morning.

As he turned another page, a discreet beeping noise emanated from the main Monitoring Station.

Defid sighed as he looked over at the console. _What now?_ He thought, a tingle of excitement helped shake off the mental cobwebs.

He gently closed the book.

"Return." He said, in a small, quiet voice.

His control chair began to move quietly back into the shell of his Travel Machine. As he moved back inside, he replaced the headset over the small nub of a ear to the left of his eye.

At first glance, Defid would not look too dissimilar to his ancestors. He was, and this never failed to make him chuckle, a glorified blob with bits.

His one large eye was a dark brown, his skin was a pleasant light blue. His 6 tentacles allowed him to manipulate objects, and even move around outside his Machine.

And, best of all, they allowed him to swim!

Swimming had become one of the biggest pastimes on Skaro these days. Everyone swam. He'd even competed in a few swimming competitions in his Academy days.

The casing sealed with a series of soft clicks. Unlike the early Daleks, Defid and his kind were not 'hard wired' into the Travel Machine. They controlled it in the same way a biped would control a vehicle. And they treated them as such.

Defid hummed to himself as he brought his Machines systems online. A series of small screens lit up in front of him, showing him a wide range of information. Everything from the current status of the Outpost, to personal communications.

He listened keenly to the voices over the open channel on his headset. Another cherished pastime of the Daleks was bickering. Good natured, extensive bickering. It was, after all, the creed of the Alliance to question everything. Within reason of course.

The current discussion on the open channel was in relation to current situation on Traken. Both the Alliance and Time Lords had offered their services as mediators in the civil war. The discussion was should they apply a small amount of pressure to their requests. This was seemingly universally rejected.

Defid gave the debate half an ear as he maneuvered his Machine to the beeping console. Once he saw what the cause of the alert was, he shut off the debate feed and gave the computer his full, undivided attention.

This was bad, he thought. Very bad.

Earth's Artron count had just spiked well and truly into the red.

Defid activated the internal comms system.

"This is Lieutenant Defid. I'm enacting an Ultra One Emergency. Repeat, Ultra One. Professor Telson to the Command Centre, please."

Throughout the station, sirens began to shout out the alert. Red and purple lights began to flash on every corridor, in every room.

In the pool, Professor Telsen hurried to his Machine, and set it moving at a high speed, not even waiting for the Machine to seal.

He charged down the corridor, repeating 'sorry, my fault' as he nearly collided with other crew members who were hurrying to their own posts.

As he headed towards the door to the Command Centre, he saw the Outpost Commander almost flying down the corridor towards him.

The OC's eyestalk was moving up and down frantically, the triangular eyepiece at the end span just as frantically. He was obviously more than a little concerned.

They met at the door to the Command Centre, the OC gave a silent nod of his eyestalk to indicate Telsen should enter first.

With a quick word of thanks, Telsen swept through the doors.

"Well, Defid. What have you got to show me?"

Without taking his eyestalk from the display, Defid began to tell the Professor what he'd seen.

The Professor listened, and waited for Defid to finish before speaking.

"Earth's Artron Count is actually _higher than normal?_ "

Defid nodded his eyestalk. "Yes. I didn't think that would even be possible?"

"Nor me." Added the OC as he joined them at the console.

The Professor thought for a moment. "Dafid, would you mind if I..?"

Defid moved away from the console. "Not at all, Professor."

The Professor moved into the space just vacated by Defid, and began to manipulate the controls with the two three-pronged manipulators at the front of his Machine.

As he typed, data flew across the screen. Lines and lines of numbers, notation, and other symbols.

It was these other symbols that got his attention.

"Commander. Have we got any ships nearby?"

The OC thought for a second. "Yes. Captain Skargols not long left us after a resupply run."

"Good. Please inform the Captain he is to set course for Earth. But he's not to make planetfall until I know a bit more."

"A bit more? About what?"

Telsen indicated the strange symbols on the readout. "About why _they're_ all going to Earth."

Defid understood. The reason for Earth's Artron Count going haywire was because, for some reason a large group of Time Lords were heading there, or were already there.

Why? He had no idea.

But he did know it meant things were about to get very complicated indeed.

He wouldn't have got any comfort from knowing that he was 100% right.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 _Crewe, United Kingdom_

 _Earth_

 _Monday,,_ _August 1_ _1_ _th_ _, 2014_

Once again, bloody Minshull New Road was a car park!

Just once, thought Adam Pritchard, _Just once_ it would be nice to get from one end of this road to the other without getting stuck in sodding traffic!

He'd only lived in Crewe for a couple of years. Ever since Crewe, somehow, had been granted City Status and become the proud owner of Britain's newest, and smallest, Metropolitan Police branch.

He drummed on his steering wheel as the cars began to move slowly forward. Before long he was at the roundabout junction with Pyms Lane, where a slew of traffic turned off to head for the newly expanded Rolls Royce complex, and the other businesses that had sprung up in the the area since 1989. It was only fair that some good came from the tragedy that was Winsford.

Let's be honest, he thought, Crewes newly found status and fortune was entirely down to Winsford. So many companies were ran out of Winsford after the cordon went up, and where did they resettle? Crewe.

But it wasn't just industry that came. All those who lived there had been evacuated to the surrounding towns, but most followed their jobs to Crewe.

All that was left in Winsford were old cars, empty houses, and UNIT.

In the 25 years since the disaster, the United Intelligence Taskforce had set up a permanent base in what was left of the Wharton Gardens Estate. Everyone knew that there was something odd about the town. Why else would there be a UNIT presence? Why else was the cause of the disaster still unknown?

He crossed the roundabout and was finally able to put his foot down a little. He looked to the new housing estate that had sprung up on his left. Well, it wasn't 'new' now, it had been built in the early 1990s, but he knew the locals still called it new. It was new, compared to the 1960s sprawl of Leigtion Park that stood opposite.

He turned left into the estate and slowed down as he looked for his destination. This estate was a warren. Countless little rows of houses branching off in all directions. All of them were named for families who had lost children in Winsford. Dunleavy Way, Carden Road, Williams Avenue. Which was fitting as this estate was built solely for these families, and other survivors. He wanted 15, Sugarman Crescent. And here it was, off to the right.

He pulled up behind a police car outside number 15. Grabbed his phone and wallet, and jumped out.

Detective Inspector Adam Pritchard was in his late 30's, sporting a head of light brown hair, which had a little tuft of grey at the front that he was always told was 'fetching' and 'unique'. So unique, in fact, he was sick of hearing it.

He didn't think he was the snappiest dresser. He owned 5 suits, and they were all the same; grey, and straight from C&A. However, he felt he may ruin the look with the size 9 DM's he always wore.

He told himself that his insistence of wearing the almost identical white shirt/grey suit was a throwback to his Army days. Either that, or he had no fashion sense. He was betting on the former.

He walked up to the drivers window of the already parked patrol car and knocked on the window.

The young constable inside wound the window down. "Morning, sir."

"Morning Pete. What you still doing here?"

Pete sighted. "The FLO's still in with the parents. Want me to hurry her along?"

The Family Liaison Officer, or FLO, was a well meaning woman in her 50s who tended to go on a bit too much. Besides, she shouldn't be here until after he'd spoken to the family.

"Any sign of DS Downing?" Adam asked.

Detective Sergeant Claire Downing had just recently been transferred to Crewe CID, and she'd declared that she was Adams' new 'Buddy and/or Shadow.' A sentiment that left him feeling a bit odd.

But, she kept to her word. They'd become a bit like one of those partnerships American films would have you believe existed in every police station in the world.

She was an excellent copper to boot. She was dedicated, driven, and sometimes, a little scary.

Adam started up the driveway to the front door of number 15. As he did so, he started thumbing through his phone contacts to give Claire a ring to see where she was.

Just as he found her, he was surprised to see her coming out of the front door with the FLO. Who, Adam noticed, had a very strange look on her face. Almost like she'd been caught sleeping in school.

"When did you get here?" Asked Adam, pointing to DS Downing.

Claire Downing was shorter than he was. She was dressed in blue jeans, which appeared to have boots underneath. As well as dark pink top and denim jacket. She looked more like she was going to do the weekly shop at Fine Fare, nevermind serving in His Majesty's Police Force.

Before he met his colleagues, the FLO did what only could be described as a sprint over the lawn of number 15 and to her car.

"What was that about?" Adam asked.

"Oh.. the parents are a bit shook up. I think it got to her."

Adam wasn't at all surprised by his colleagues total lack of sympathy. That was another thing DS Downing had going for her; a total lack of any emotional involvement in the cases she worked on. Cool headed was very much her style.

Adam nodded slightly, thinking that 'a bit shook up' was probably his colleagues way of saying 'out of their minds with worry.'

They both walked back to the house. "What have they said?" Asked Adam.

Claire shrugged. "The usual."

Adam expected as much, they'd be in denial, like most people in their position were.

 _It's not like her._ Or, and this was his personal favourite, _she seemed so happy._

What did happiness have to do with it? Did people not consider that the reason someone had gone missing was because they'd been taken against their will? Do these people think that nut job abductors go up to a person and ask "Excuse me, are you happy?|" And nod, smile, and walk away if the person replies in the affirmative?

As they approached the front door, it was opened by who Adam assumed was the father.

"Mr Jenkins?" Asked Adam, as he held out his hand.

The man in the doorway took the proffered hand, and nodded. "Inspector Pritchard?"

"Adam, please."

The other man gave a small smile. "Then I'm Steve, This way."

He led the two officers into a bright living room. The large window at the front of the house let in a generous amount of the August sunlight. Thankfully, with it only being just after 9am, the temperature hadn't yet risen into the 20s.

Sitting on one of the dark leather chairs (they must get bloody hot, thought Adam) was a pale woman who looked like she'd not slept in quite a few days.

Claire walked towards her, kneeling down in front as she she took the woman's hand.

"Hello, Dawn. My colleagues here now. And I want you to tell him all that you told me."

Dawn Jenkins looked down at Claire. It looked like she'd just come out of a deep sleep.

"Oh. Hello, Claire. Yes. I'll tell him everything."

Claire released her hand as she stood up, As she turned towards Adam, he noticed that she seemed to be putting something back into her top. Adam raised a questioning eyebrow.

"My necklace fell out." She replied.

Adam nodded as he sat down on the couch opposite Dawn. Claire joined him.

Adam took out his phone, popped out it's stylus and got ready to take notes. He began to read from the ones he'd already gotten at the station.

"Victoria Jenkins. Aged 36. Current address is 21, Tatton Road, Crewe."

Both parents nodded at him as he read this. Then, the questions began.

"When was the last time you saw your daughter?"

"It was three days ago. She came round to return a suitcase she borrowed. She was supposed to be going on a hen do but didn't in the end."

"I've looked in the suitcase already. Nothing in there."

Adam was a bit taken aback by Claire's statement. But he shrugged it off and carried on.

"Who's hen do was it?"

"A friend she knew in school. Lucy something-or-other."

"Benson." Steve Jenkins offered.

Adam thought he better tread carefully with his next question, even if it did sound innocent. "Which school did they attend together?"

He was right to be cautious. Dawn took a breath and said. "They were at the Verdin."

He should have known that.

"How did you daughter deal with the disaster?"

Steve answered, a tad angered. "How the hell do you think she dealt with it? She lost almost all of her friends. It was blind luck that she, Lucy, and Becky survived."

"Becky?"

"Rebecca Arnold. The three of them became very close afterwards. Although I think Vicky and Becky have had words."

"Have you checked with Ms. Arnold to see if she's seen your daughter?"

Dawn spoke this time. "Yes. She came over yesterday. She was the one who said we should contact you."

Adam made a note to go have a chat with Rebecca Arnold. Then he pressed on.

After an hour or so, Adam felt they'd got all the information they needed. They gave their assurances to Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins that they'd do all they can, and then left.

As they walked back towards Adams' car, he glanced briefly at her his notes before talking to Claire.

"What do you think?"

"I think she's had enough of the daly drudge, dumped her kids with God-Knows-Who and is drunk in a bar somewhere in Blackpool."

"Certainly the weather for it." Adam replied, as he looked up at the blue summer sky. This past week had be exceptionally warm for August, and the Met Office were predicting temperatures as high as 32°C.

As he scanned the sky, he saw a small black dot move swiftly across the sky, the small red flashing light on its bottom just about visible. It was a Civil Emergency Drone. The skies of the UK were full of them. Their job was to monitor any incident or disaster that might befall the British people.

Yet another consequence of the tragedy of 1989.

Adam pointed up at it. "I wonder if we could get some of the footage of one of those to track our missing person?"

Claire knew he was joking, and gave a polite laugh. "If you manage that, you'll be the first."

Adam nodded. "True. But CCTV footage is a good start."

"That could take hours!"

"I better get a shift on then, shouldn't I?"

With that, Adam walked to the drivers' side of his car.

"You want a lift?" He asked Claire.

"No, but thank you. My cars around the corner. I'm going to track down this Rebecca person."

"Right ho. Meet me back at base at… 1pm?"

"Sure. See you then."

Adam smiled as he climbed into his car, and gave a little wave as he drove off.

Once she was sure he'd gone, Claire let out a deep sigh.

She knew this was going to be complicated. But not _this_ complicated.

She started to walk back through the estate towards the main road. Just before she reached the exit to the estate, she ducked down an ally, sure that no one had seen her.

Once away from prying eyes, Claire pulled a small, white piece of paper from her pocket. A piece of paper she'd found in the suitcase at the Jenkins house.

She felt a twinge of guilt from lying to Adam. But, once all became clear, she knew he'd understand.

Clare looked at the piece of paper for what was possibly the 26th time since discovering it.

On it were 5 lines of symbols. Each row was different. Not one row was the same as the other.

Expect in one thing. They all said the same thing.

Claire knew what it said, and in all five languages.

She was sure she knew what had happened to this poor woman. Almost certain.

With a determined sigh, she pulled her own phone from her pocket, flicked through her Contacts, and made a call.

The other end was picked up almost straight away.

Claire spoke. "It's me. We need to talk."

The voice protested at the other end. Claire was having none of it.

"I don't care. I'm cleaning up your mess, and the least you could do is agree to meet me."

The voice gave apologies, and asked where should they meet.

"Your house."

More protests from the voice.

Claire took a deep breath. "It's okay. No one will see me enter or leave your home. That wouldn't be good for either of us."

Claire ended the call. Double checked that there was no one around.

And then she vanished.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

It was the Seltiac that were the first to notice that the Earth had changed.

The Seltiac are a race of furry, bloody-minded, weapons dealers. All the major wars in the Galaxy, from Trakhen to the Banner Worlds, had given the Seltiac heaps of money for ways to quickly kill off their foes.

It was because of their mercenary ways that they were able to notice the difference.

They had just completed a very shady deal with the government of the Third Zone (more on that trainwreck later) when they started to notice something wrong with the communication signals coming from Earth.

As this had piqued their interest, they set up a small base on the Earth's Moon to have a proper look.

What they saw was enough to chill even their souls.

Everything they were seeing, and I do mean _everything,_ was so beyond wrong that they thought about making up a new word to describe the level of wrongness they were witnessing.

You see, the Seltiac had extensive information on good old Sol 3, it was their way of preparing for that day when they could start selling Black Light Accelerators to Earth's blood-thirsty folk.

These files were a detailed breakdown of the planets history, and future. And what they were seeing didn't add up. At all.

This was in the Sol year 2012, two years before young Ms. Jenkins went missing. The Earth that _should_ be there was one of Facebook, Barack Obama, and the iPhone.

What they saw was… worrying, to say the least. A Soviet Union existing on the brink of ruin. An increasingly isolationist USA. This list could go on..

The Seltiac knew this was something that needed to be brought to the appropriate authorities, namely the Time Lords.

With this in mind, they dispatched a message to Skaro. They didn't have the ear of Gallifrey, but they knew some mutants that did.

After hours of waiting, the Seltiac received a reply to their message. If the information they sent was worrying, then the response from the Daleks was truly chilling.

It was two words: We Know.

Then there was another message from the Daleks, a much longer message. It said, in no uncertain terms, that the Seltiac were to leave the Earth system, never to return. Oh, and they were to speak of this to no-one. Ever. Or Else!

The Daleks, as well as their Time Lord allies, had been aware of this 'discontinuity' for some time. It had become a constant source of worry and dread.

What had gone wrong? And when?

It all went awry in 1944, the failure of Operation Overlord. This caused the Second World War to last until 1947 when it came to a messy, and somewhat confusing end.

An ending that led to no Soviet presence in Germany due to Churchill implementing Operation Unthinkable. Along with reliable German troops, the British and French fought the Red Army back, street by street, in Berlin. The Americans, for reasons never made clear, decided that they had done their bit, and toddled back across the Atlantic.

With the exception of the non-existent East Germany, the USSR pretty much stood as you would know it, albeit a bit less bombastic.

The Korean War happened as it should have. Although, North Korea wouldn't survive past 1968 due to the long and bloody collapse of the People's Republic of China.

Through all this, by some miracle, Great Britain stayed just that. Great. What can only be described as a post-war economic miracle took place, and Britannia very much ruled. From the motor industry to electronics. Made in GB was everywhere.

You'd be forgiven for thinking that what you've just read is a bit, well, off. That the years post WW2 were a bit of a confusing mess that barely made any sense. And you wouldn't be alone. It _was_ a mess. A horrible, horrible mess. Almost everything from 1944 onwards was wrong, on many levels.

The Daleks and Time Lords had been aware of this state of affairs for quite some time. In fact, the latter knew it would happen. Unbeknown to the Daleks, the High Council breathed a collective sigh of relief when it did. That meant that things could start to move forward.

That, however, is a story for another time.

The big question was, of course, _how_ could this have happened to the history of only one planet? Well, for a start, once the distortion had been detected, the Time Lords isolated Earth from the rest of the universe, just to be sure. Yes, ships still did get through, but they were always sanctioned visits.

But what caused this whole episode to play out? The answer to that can be traced to a small town in the North West of England.

It's name? Winsford.

In 1989, the entire town was destroyed by what was at first thought to be a thermonuclear explosion. The force of the blast was felt as far down the country as Birmingham, hence the initial reaction. Shortly after the blast, it was discovered that there was no errant atomic radiation anywhere nearby.

It was far, far worse. It was an explosion in Time.

Again. That's a story for another time.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

 _Crewe, United Kingdom_

 _Earth_

 _August 10_ _th_ _, 2014_

As she materialised, DS Claire Downing remembered why she hated short-range transmat. It always made her dizzy.

In her normal life, as the First Lady of Gallifrey, Alicia had to contend with the wretched thing on a daily basis, and thought she would be free of it here on Earth.

Sadly, life had a way of messing you around like this.

As she fought to gain her balance, she became aware of the overpowering wall of sound that was assaulting her from all sides. Someone had turned their music all the way up to 15, never mind 11. Alicia didn't recognise the music, but she did know that it didn't belong here..

Right planet. Wrong timeline.

As she took in her surroundings, she saw that signal she'd followed had brought her to a modest dining room. The walls were covered with a mixture of photos of small children in those poses favoured by schools throughout the universe, and photos of all manner of holidays and parties.

Against one wall was a desk, on which sat a very sleek (by Earth standards) computer. Against another wall was another desk, at which sat a young woman.

The woman was completely lost in whatever it was she was doing. As Alicia moved closer, she saw the woman was reading a large, old book. Nothing wrong with that.

What was rather odd was what was propping it up. And that music wasn't helping.

"Why a watermelon?" She asked.

The watermelon in question was not only propping up the book, it appeared to have a Discman plugged into it.

"Why not a watermelon?" Snapped the woman, as she stopped the Discman, whilst not looking up from her book.

"Where _did_ you find that?" Asked Alicia, motioning to the CD case laying on the table.

"See for yourself." Offered the woman, as she nudged the case across the table whilst still not moving from her sitting position.

Alicia picked up the CD case. She turned the case over, and after noting the name of the group (she'd never heard of The KLF) gave all her attention to the catalogue sticker she found on the back.

It read UNIT-1991-CD4633352/3/A.

She tapped the case on her hand. "You shouldn't have this."

It was this that got the full attention of the woman. As she stood to face Alicia, she could see in the woman's eyes that she was far from happy.

"That's what has you worried, is it? We have bigger problems than the type of music I'm listening to. Wouldn't you agree?"

Alicia had to concede she did have a point.

She watched as the woman swept past her, taking the CD case as she moved. She was dressed in a long, bright summer frock with short sleeves. Her bare feet stomped across the floor as she moved towards a small pile of CD cases, on which she placed the one in her hand.

She turned again to to face Alicia, her eyes ablaze with a fierce, frightening intellect that was just about kept at bay by the pair of glasses, who's gold frames were the perfect match for her vibrant, blonde hair.

She folded her arms. "Well?"

Alicia took a deep breath. "It's not good. But I don't think we'll have to worry about it for long."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" Then a thought hit her. "It's started already? The backwash from the accident shouldn't kick in for a least a day or so."

Alicia scoffed at the choice of the world 'accident'. They both knew it was far from that.

She reached into her top, and brought out a brightly glowing orb she wore around her neck on a delicate chain, so delicate it looked like it shouldn't be able to hold the orb she now held in her hand.

"It hasn't. I just tried to keep the poor woman calm. She was nearly hysterical."

"In a few days in won't matter anyway. But thank you all the same."

Alicia nodded as she reached into her pocket. "I managed to have a poke around to see if there were any loose ends that could cause questions." She handed the piece of paper she'd found to the woman. "Turns out there was."

The woman sighed as she took the paper. "I _told_ her not to bring anything back."

"You shouldn't have taken here there in the first place. Where _did_ you take her?"

"The markets on Garazone. She was moaning she'd missed the market in town, so I offered to take her to a far better market." She laughed at the memory, "She thought I was taking her to Hanley!"

"And then you took her off world again? And that's when…"

"Yes. Yes. That's when it happened." Snapped the woman. "In a few days, it'll be like nothing ever happened. Literally."

"You hope."

"That reminds me. You were suspicious about this Pritchard. Are you still?"

Alicia thought about this, and shrugged. "I'm not sure. But I think we'll know in a day or so. I suppose some good has to come out of this little drama."

"Speaking of drama…" The woman moved towards a photo hanging a wall. She lightly touched the head of the dog in the photo, and the entire wall vanished…

...to be replaced by a real-time image of the Earth.

Alicia was impressed.

"I did wonder at the photos. I thought you said you didn't have children?"

"I don't. It was something he knocked up." She walked over to the waterlemon and gave it a loving pat.

"So this is now?" Asked Alicia, motioning to the image.

"Correct. Realtime image of the planet thanks to our little friend over there." The woman indicated the watermelon.

"So, come on then. You mentioned 'drama'?"

"I did. Yes." The woman waved a hand at the image. A large orange mesh covered the entire planet. The mesh seemed to be shifting ever so slightly. Sparks came off it at random points, as if it were on fire.

Alicia's jaw dropped. She knew what that was.

"What in Omegas name is causing it?"

The woman looked at her. "It would appear that _this_ planet, on _this day,_ is become a focal point for a vast amount of temporal activity. Vast even for Earth."

Alicia nodded slowly. "He's coming here, isn't he?"

"Maybe. And, judging by this, so are half the High Council."

"You're right. Now what?"

The woman thought for a second, then came to a decision. "Maybe I should do what I was supposed to do?"

Alicia gave her a friendly smile "As you wish, Lord President."

The woman smiled back. "I'd much prefer Bex, if that's alright with you."

Half an hour later, Alicia had listened to Bex's instructions, and transmatted her way out of there.

Bex liked Alicia. Well, of course she did. So she felt bad for pulling the wool over her eyes.

She threw herself into the chair she was sat in when her guest first arrived. As she sat down she began to fiddle with a small silver charm that hung from a bracelet. She'd had to pump up the perception filter in her house so Alicia wouldn't poke around too much. This was the reason for Alicia's bumpy transmat trip. As someone with a high telepathic ability, Bex knew she'd have to cause as much psionic disruption as possible, hence playing 'Last Train to Trancentral' at full blast. The power the amped perception filter was putting out would cause Alicia a feeling akin to seasick, and Bexs' intimate knowledge of her friends natural aversion to matter transportation was enough to convince Alicia she had just had another of her bumpy rides. Twisting the small figurine on her wrist brought the filter back down to a level more suited to distract one of the natives.

 _Natives!_ She thought. _That was me once!_

With that taken care of, Bex returned her full attention to the reason for her little bit of trickery; the book perched by her watermelon. It wasn't against the rules for her to have this book, but it would raise too many questions, and she wasn't in the mood for nosey parkers. This book was special as, well, it didn't exactly belong in this permutation of reality.

She stroked the watermelon, noticing the hole she'd plugged the Discman into had vanished.

"Not long now, little one." She said. "Then we can get on with what's important."

With that, Rebecca 'Bex' Arnold took a deep breath and returned to her book.

The books name? _The Chronicle of The Last Great Time War._


End file.
